Tax Doesn't Have To Be Taxing
by pippychick
Summary: Ianto is filling out a tax return whilst Jack hangs around in the office. Innocent enough, right? Wrong. Guess what happens! Or just read the story, and I'll tell you...


**Disclaimer:** Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones and Gwen Cooper do not belong to me. They belong to Russell T Davies, their wonderful writers, the BBC and to John Barrowman, Gareth David-Lloyd and Eve Myles for being fabulous. Please don't sue me, I make no money from this.

**Author's Notes:**

Ok, this story is for Nikki, who wanted to see Jack hiding under his own desk as someone "interrupts" them.

The bit with the tax and Gareth's beautiful accent is all my doing.

I hope you enjoy it.

_This story was written for a request on a forum that I belong to. It had such a good response there, that I decided to post it here._

WARNING: It is rated M for a reason. There will be mature homoerotic content.

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**Tax Doesn't Have to Be Taxing**

The footsteps were off putting. Back and forth they went, past the desk, and back again, and eventually Ianto put down his pen and sighed, turning away from his work to pay attention to Jack. "Stop pacing."

Jack did stop, but gave Ianto a rather steady look of his own. "I can't help it," he said pointedly, raising an eyebrow. "_Someone_ is sitting in my chair."

Ianto leaned back, completely in control, letting his hands rest on the arms of Jack's chair. He resisted the urge to compare Jack to one of the three bears, because really that would make himself into… yeah. He also somehow managed to keep from making the point that Jack got moody like this once every month around this time. "That's your own fault," he said eventually.

"How is it my fault?" Jack asked, arms folded, trying hard to look dangerous. It didn't have any effect on Ianto whatsoever. Well, except in the sense that he couldn't seem to look away – Jack was beautiful when he was trying to be daunting.

"Because you won't allow me to have the biggest calculator on my desk," Ianto said simply. Jack smirked at him and relaxed, coming closer. Something mischievous came to life in Ianto, and he considered the alternative by glancing at the stack of receipts and invoices. There really wasn't any competition at all.

"I'm not playing," Ianto said in the end, watching Jack walk up to him, which meant that really he was. "This is tax." Jack looked hungry for something, and Ianto knew what. "In fact, this is worse than tax. This," Ianto paused, and Jack held his breath, "is VAT."

Actually, he was sure it was the vowels that got Jack every time, but it was beyond amusing. Ianto kept in the laughter, somehow, as Jack came to lean on the desk before him. "Honestly," he said, consciously teasing, "they're worse than the DVLA." Jack's eyes darkened just a little. Ianto thought it was very entertaining. In fact, it was hysterical.

"But this is Torchwood," Jack argued, playing his part perfectly, "beyond the government, outside the police."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "But completely within the remit of the…" He paused again deliberately.

"Say it," Jack ordered implacably, and Ianto shook his head slightly, deciding to be merciless.

"No."

"Go on," his tone was slightly wheedling. "No one else can hear you. Say it once."

"No," Ianto said again, and took a deep breath as if he was about to actually do some work. To his surprise, Jack stopped him from swivelling the chair around by falling to his knees and looking up at Ianto with this kind of overly dramatic pleading expression.

"Say it for me," Jack suggested, and Ianto just melted all at once. He smiled.

"Inland Revenue," he said slowly, consciously broadening his accent just a little bit. He'd never been so glad he hadn't lost it while living in London.

"I love it when you do that," Jack confided deeply, resting his chin on Ianto's knee as if besotted. Strangely enough, he really believed Jack meant it. Ianto resisted the urge to laugh again. He found that, around Jack, he had to resist a lot of things. It was amazing that they ever got any work done at all. It must be his own iron control that made that possible.

"You would," he said in amusement, and a question struck him that he kept coming back to again and again. It was how he had discovered Jack's love of acronyms. "Is there anything that doesn't do it for –"

A noise at the door made him stop short and look up suddenly. He turned his chair to face the desk, horribly aware that Jack had crept underneath it along with his legs.

"Ah!" he said in shocked surprise, clearing his throat with a smile he hoped was innocent. "Gwen! What can I do for you?" There wasn't room for his legs and Jack. He knew this because there was never room for _him_ and _Jack's_ legs. At least not comfortable room, unless Jack… he kept his face carefully expressionless as beneath the desk Jack pushed his legs apart to make space for himself.

"Ianto. Where's Jack?" Gwen frowned a little. "I need to speak to him." Ianto believed her, but unfortunately he couldn't help. Jack's hands were ghosting up over his inner thighs. Ianto had to stop him, somehow.

"Have you tried the, er…?" He made a slight gesture towards the com in his own ear, and was relieved when Jack's hands left his legs and there was a flurry of silent activity under the desk as Jack got the ear piece away from him frantically.

"Nothing," Gwen said, dissatisfied, tapping the com a couple of times.

"Well, he's probably just switched it off," Ianto said, slightly satisfied with his own genius, and Jack squeezed one of his calves in silent communication. Ianto smiled, and tried to make it reassuring for Gwen's benefit.

"Do you think he's all right?" she asked, and Ianto considered.

"Oh, yeah. He _is_ Jack." Gwen smiled, nodding at him, while underneath the desk, Jack's hands started to wander again. Ianto swallowed as Jack's hands met in the middle and slowly began to undo his buttons. "Mind you," he said, his voice ever so slightly higher, "that doesn't mean he isn't playing with something he really shouldn't."

Beneath the desk, Jack suddenly halted for a breathless second or two. "Maybe give him a while though," Ianto said, not sure if he was more relieved that Jack had stopped, or more relieved that he had decided to carry on, "you know, before we, uncover whatever secretive thing he's up to."

Gwen turned away and then smiled to herself, while Ianto tried to reconcile the area above the desk (his conversation with Gwen, the stack of VAT receipts) with the area below the desk (Jack's hands on him, tugging and tormenting, Jack's lips caressing him). "Do you remember Estelle?" she said, her voice soft, looking out of the glass dreamily. "Do you think he's with someone he loves?"

Oh, this was too much! Jack was touching him, and Gwen seemed about to confide in him at any second. Ianto shook his head minutely, his face frozen. "I really couldn't say."

"Does he share any secrets with you, Ianto?" She was curious. Much too curious. Ianto tried to look as clueless as possible, given that Jack was playing with him under the desk. There was a trick to this. If he separated his brain and that part of his body, then it would be fine. At least that's how the theory went. Ianto rather suspected that it would be torture.

"Only the fun things," Ianto said at last, his hands gripping the chair's arms so hard he must be leaving dents, praying he wasn't getting breathless. "He's a mystery to me as well. I don't know what it is that makes him carry on, when all he seems to do is get into trouble." That was a warning, right there, a warning that Jack Harkness chose to completely ignore.

"What else is there?" Gwen asked rhetorically. "Except to keep on doing what we do?" They were Jack's words, coming from her mouth, and all Ianto could think was that it must be because Jack couldn't say them for himself right now, not with his mouth full like that.

"Gwen, I'm sure he'd agree with you completely," Ianto said, making her smile. He thought little bit of approval that was what she wanted, and he turned out to be right. Jack was sucking him now, below the desk, God! It felt so good! Below the desk, Jack was manipulating him to perfection, and he felt as though he was on fire. But Ianto stayed as still as a statue in his chair, regulating his breathing, completely unable to stop Jack from doing it. "Sometimes," he said carefully, helpless, his voice a little quiet and lower than before, "it's as if he just can't stop."

"He is relentless," Gwen agreed. Ianto didn't think she realised the truth of it like he did. Relentless.

"I'd go as far as to say, insatiable." Jack's hands squeezed his upper legs briefly in answer, and Ianto swallowed.

"What are you doing, anyway?" Gwen asked, turning away from the glass.

"Ohh…" Ianto said, not even daring to look down. "Tax. VAT." He said the words, but he had no idea what they meant anymore. It felt as if the expression on his face had been there for several hours. He prayed Gwen didn't notice. She didn't, and Ianto wondered if he usually displayed such an obvious lack of animation, or if Gwen just didn't notice him in particular.

"Do we pay tax?" she queried.

"We do." Ianto said, then decided to try for the longest sentence he could think up while Jack was having him. "Can I take a message?"

"No, that's all right, Ianto," Gwen said, smiling a little as if it was in charity. She took a step towards the door, then a step towards the desk. "I'll just wait until he's back."

Ianto felt vaguely alarmed when she didn't step anywhere else. He wanted to look at the door, but didn't dare to even move his eyes. "Are you, erm, going to wait here then?"

"Do you mind? Am I in your way?" Somewhere in Ianto's mind screamed and shouted yes over and over again, while out in the real world, he just barely managed to come up with something coherent.

"Well, I do have rather a lot of, erm, you know – I'm really trying to work things out here."

Gwen bit her lip, as if she didn't want to leave, then smiled and shrugged a little. "I'll leave you to it."

"Thanks," Ianto commented, and watched her walk out of the door before he dared to look down. Jack disengaged himself, and Ianto groaned, narrowing his eyes.

"Has she gone?" he asked, proving that he already knew the answer. Ianto shook his head.

"You're not moving until I'm finished," he said firmly, his hand on the desk closing around a few of the receipts so that they crumpled and scrunched into his fist.

"Oh, yeah?" Jack challenged, then he seemed to realise what Ianto meant, his own hand closing around Ianto and moving a couple of times – quickly – making Ianto swear and his eyelids flutter. "Oh, yeah… Ianto Jones, have I ever told you, you're very calculating?"

"But not as calculating as you," Ianto returned, knowing it had to be true.

"I'm glad you didn't give me away," Jack said at last.

"Why?" Ianto asked, resisting the urge to straighten out the pieces of paper he had crumpled accidentally in his hand.

"Because I'm with someone I love," Jack said carefully, "and I don't want you to give me up."

"I can't give you up," Ianto said pointedly, watching how Jack touched him, and moving into it a little. Suddenly the first part of the statement sank in, and he felt as invincible as Jack Harkness. "Are you sure?"

"I've been alive long enough to know when I want to say it. And to know who I want to say it to," Jack said, and Ianto smiled, feeling happier than he could remember for so long.

"I love you too," he said in return, realising it truly for perhaps the first time. "But you're still not moving until it's done."

"Yes, Sir," Jack said, and that was all he needed to do to hint at a role reversal that made Ianto throw himself back in the chair and close his eyes. He let the receipts go, just as Jack devoted his lips and hands to Ianto's pleasure. Some of them fell to the floor. Because he was at heart a tidy person, his gaze flickered up to the desk, and the VAT book on it.

Just at that moment, he felt himself sliding deep down into Jack's throat. He stopped breathing. Then he breathed far too quickly, little snarling sounds of pleasure torn from his throat as he tried to speak. "Jack!" he gasped, unable to stop himself making little movements. "Not yet! Don't! Not when I'm…" And it was too late. He squeezed his eyes close as he came, a raw sound of pleasure coming from his throat as he tried to let his breath out.

"What?" Jack asked eventually when it was all done. Ianto couldn't move, and he caught his breath, still feeling the occasional slow jolt of sparkling blood in his veins as Jack moved up a little and kissed the skin below his stomach.

"How could you do that to me?" Ianto asked, eyes closed. "I was thinking of…" He thought about it again and groaned. "Oh, no! No!" But there wasn't any point in denying it.

"What?" Jack asked again, sounding just a little exasperated. Then he paused for a beat too long. "Were you thinking of Gwen?"

"No, Jack," Ianto replied, sitting up straight as he let Jack out from under the desk, finding himself facing the same amount of month end work as before. "I was thinking about the Inland Revenue!"

Why was it Jack always seemed to get the last laugh?

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**Author's Note:** Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. :)


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